Library Lockup
by YugamiYoshitsune
Summary: Apollo is forced to do research for a case in the courthouse basement archive on a Friday night, and accidentally falls asleep shortly before closing time. When he awakes a few hours later, it is completely dark, the doors have been locked - and he finds that he is not the only one who is locked in for the weekend... Gen, male bonding, talk about past trauma.
1. Chapter 1

Apollo Justice _hated _archive research. He hated the overly quiet studiousness that always pervaded the basement of the courthouse, the way someone would hiss out a _"Shhh" _the moment anyone dared to raise their voice above a whisper, even if it was to discuss something case-related, the smell of dust and old paper which was ever-present. Perhaps it was a remnant of his law school days, which he now regarded with rather mixed feelings. While he loved his profession, looking back at his past had become something he preferred to avoid. Kristoph Gavin, and then, recently, Clay…

He shook his head, forcing his thoughts back into the present by telling himself that he _particularly _hated being stuck here half an hour before closing time on a Friday night, looking up some obscure precedent to use in court next week, since Mr. Wright had recalled a case from his early days which had apparently been similar – now if only he could _find _it…

By now, he had read his way through a number of manila folders, and his eyelids were growing heavy. He would soon have to give up – thank goodness this case came with a slightly longer preparation period than their average murder trial. Come to think of it, that _was_ rather bizarre. Comparatively minor crimes like patent infringement and theft allowed for a few days, while killings were, more often than not, tried the very next day. Perhaps this, more than anything, was a sign that a 'dark age of the law' was at hand, only that it had begun long before the press had begun to make a big deal out of it.

Apollo pinched his cheek when his eyes threatened to close, the pain serving to restore his alertness for a moment.

_I'll just finish this one folder, and then, I'll go home. I've done what I could for today. _

If he did not happen upon it soon, he would have to return on Monday. Just _thinking _about it made him roll his eyes.

_Come on…it's _got _to be here somewhere…_

Stifling a yawn, he read on, forcing himself to ignore the way the words began to blur on the page until they became all but impossible to read. Maybe, if he just closed his eyes for a minute, he would be able to refocus and finish this up…

A minute became two, grew into five, turned into seven. By the time ten minutes had passed, Apollo was snoring softly, sitting in the small reading alcove, the file folder still open in his lap.

* * *

Apollo woke to darkness and the sound of someone rattling on a locked door.

A locked door…?

He shot up from the comfortable armchair that had, in its coziness, served to trap him here with whatever maniac was currently attempting to get out of the large subterranean hall.

Since his eyes were slow to adjust to the low light level, he could only see the vaguest outline of the other person – but when they growled in frustration, things suddenly became a whole lot worse.

_That isn't…? No, it can't be._

"If there is _anybody _left in this godforsaken temple to the distortion of truth, they would do well to open this door, or else I will…"

_It is._

Apollo sighed. "Prosecutor Blackquill?"

The other man's tirade ceased immediately, and he could dimly see the figure near the door turning around and leaning against the wood.

"Justice-dono, what a surprise. It seems I am not the only one who chanced being bored into slumber by the local reading material."

Blackquill let out a derisive chuckle. "This is probably karmic retribution for inviting you to spend the night in my cell a few months ago."

_Oh hell no._

Apollo reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, thinking that perhaps Prosecutor Gavin would know someone who could let them out of this case mausoleum, as much of a people person as he was – only to give it a crestfallen look when the display did not light up. Apparently, the battery was dead, and he had not thought to bring his charger.

"My cell phone's out of juice. I don't suppose you have one on you?"

Blackquill scoffed as he walked towards the defense attorney.

"I have yet to purchase one again. Taka serves as a speedy enough means of communication at present."

Apollo cringed. "Don't tell me your bird's somewhere in here, too?"

On one hand, sudden talons in his face in near-total darkness were probably the one thing that would completely frame this situation as hell on earth, on the other, maybe Blackquill's damn overgrown pigeon could suss out a way out of here and notify someone…

The tall prosecutor promptly negated his tentatively burgeoning hope. "No. My compatriot prefers above-ground quarters, and since there is no decent hunting to be had in these catacombs, he never ventures down here with me."

"Of course not – the one time he'd be _useful_…"

Apollo did not have to be able to see Blackquill's face to know that the other man's eyes were narrowing dangerously upon his remark.

"Agreed – he would certainly prove to be of more use than _you_."

That did it. Apollo stalked over to the large double doors, banging on them and shouting at his best Chords of Steel volume, "HEY! IS ANYBODY OUT THERE?"

"SILENCE!"

Blackquill had followed him and now clamped a hand over his mouth to emphasize his command. The prosecutor's grip was not unlike a steel vise, and Apollo found himself swallowing hard. Exonerated or not, the man _was _an ex-inmate, and probably not entirely unused to getting his way by employing physical means.

In a quieter voice, Blackquill continued, "If you continue to insist on exacerbating this already untenable situation by giving me a headache, know that I do not take kindly to obviously futile attempts to get yourself released by resorting to this sort of infernal racket. Everyone has left. We are trapped for now, and we are going to deal with it _without _you deafening me. Is that understood?"

Apollo nodded quickly, and the hand was removed from his face. Only then did the full reality of the problem set in.

He was stuck in an archive which would not be unlocked until Monday morning, and his companion in this misery was a man who had a fairly nasty temper and not much of a reason to be friendly towards him.

The next fifty-odd hours were going to be the _worst._


	2. Chapter 2

Apollo sighed. "Right then. I guess we're locked in for the weekend. Should be a cinch for you, I suppose, so – any wisdom you'd care to share?"

"Hmph. Our situation is hardly comparable to sitting in the clink." He could hear Blackquill's smirk more than he could see it, even though his eyes were now slowly adjusting to the tiny hint of artificial street light coming in through the small windows near the ceiling. Unfortunately, those did not open, and even if they did (or they smashed them in), neither one of them would likely be able to fit through them.

"Good to know that I'm not the only _useless _one," he muttered under his breath before he could stop himself, only to flinch when his unwilling companion _laughed_.

"Not too shabby a parry, Justice-dono, although you might want to ascertain that your opponent's blade is, in fact, coming at you from that angle. I _was _going to say that, while our temporary accommodations are more _roomy _than I am accustomed to, there are certain concerns particular to our current problem which we will have to ponder. For one, provisions, particularly water. For another, the basest of hygiene, as I would rather not relieve myself on the floor."

"What about _light_?" Apollo threw in.

Blackquill sounded matter-of-fact as he answered. "There is not much to be done about it. You recall the grand display the Judge's Council made at the beginning of the year of how 2028 was going to feature efforts to 'protect the environment?'"

Now, he remembered. "Part of that was going green by shutting off the power in the courthouse at the main breaker over the weekend… dammit."

"Afraid of the dark?" The prosecutor taunted.

Apollo replied indignantly, "As if! It might just have been _nice_ to be able to see our hands before our eyes – or maybe read something, to pass the time!"

He _could _see Blackquill shrug. "There should be enough light during daylight hours to indulge yourself, if you want to put yourself to sleep again with the available literature."

Well, as his opponent had said, they could not exactly change the fact that they would spend two days in darkness or near-darkness. Additionally, he had been correct in his assessment that water and a bathroom were probably more pressing problems.

"The regular toilets are in the hallway, but there's a door leading to the handicapped restroom in here."

Truth be told, Apollo had used it a few times during his studies, when he had refused to abandon his research until business had become too urgent to ignore. Thankfully, he had never managed to keep one of its intended users from being able to take advantage of it.

"Where?" Apparently, Blackquill had not known about this and was now all ears.

_Not so useless now, huh?_

"Between two shelves next to the west exit."

Apollo walked over to the recessed door, the prosecutor following him, and firmly grasped the door handle – only for his face to fall when the door would not budge. It, too, had been locked.

"Why the _hell _are they locking the _bathroom_? Are they afraid someone is gonna break in here, only to make off with a roll of toilet paper?"

Blackquill scoffed. "This is but a minor setback. You wouldn't happen to have a few paperclips on you?"

"You mean…?"

A short bark of laughter. "One cannot spend seven years among criminals without picking up a few things."

"There are probably a few still stuck in the files, for bookmarks or just to keep things together," Apollo surmised, pulling out a few folders from the nearest shelf and letting his fingers wander over the edges of the documents therein, soon happening upon the requested items.

While he pulled the paperclips out of the document holders, he asked, "If you can pick this lock, why not just open one of the main doors?"

"I have yet to meet the inmate who would be able to pick _fire doors _with nothing but a paperclip. Bar locks are more of a challenge, and unless you have a battering ram and additional manpower at your disposal at the moment..."

_Right. Of course it couldn't be this easy._

"Okay, I found three. Is that gonna be enough?" Apollo asked instead of voicing this thought aloud.

"More than enough. Hand them here." Blackquill held out a hand towards him. Since his eyes had now adjusted enough to the darkness, the movement was easily visible, thanks to the prosecutor's abiding paleness. While most of his wardrobe blended in with the background, his companion's uncovered face and hands, as well as the prominent white patch of his hair, reflected the vague orange illumination streaming in from the windows.

Apollo placed the paperclips in the other man's large palm.

Blackquill immediately turned back toward the door and crouched, bending the clips out of shape for a few moments before inserting the first one into the lock.

"Stay silent from now on. I need to hear if I am setting the pins."

After a mere two minutes of quiet scraping and clicking sounds, the door swung inward.

"There we are. That solves two of our problems." Blackquill sounded satisfied.

"You sure?" Apollo hated bringing this up, but had to ask, anyway. "If the power's out, are we even gonna have running water? I'd rather not drink out of the toilet tank, if it's all the same to you."

"Oh ye of little faith." The prosecutor entered the large bathroom, and a moment later, water was, in fact, splashing audibly into the sink. "The city water supply functions on autonomous pumps, and since we are fairly close to the line, pressure problems should not occur."

And just like that, their most critical problem was taken care of. Apollo now actually felt grateful that Blackquill had been caught unawares by the archive lock-up alongside him, as he would have probably had to brave dehydration without the man's lock-picking skills. Not that he would admit that aloud.

"Okay, now for the final issue. What are we gonna do about food? I have some money on me, but the vending machines are out in the hallway…"

"Unfortunately, these are going to be a meager two days," Blackquill conceded. "I have but a small amount of provisions on my person, but we should endeavor to save them until at least tomorrow night, if at all possible."

Not a particularly pleasant prospect, but two days of fasting were hardly disgusting or life-threatening, as taking a piss in the middle of a law archive or not having access to water would have been.

Apollo shrugged. "Guess there's nothing we can do about that, then. What now?"

The prosecutor snorted in response. "'What now,' you ask? It is late, and as you pointed out, we are hardly able to see. I, for one, will find one of the alcoves and go back to sleep. I suggest you do the same – the more time we spend in slumber, the more quickly our period of incarceration together will pass."

Hearing Blackquill walk away from him, the defense attorney shrugged to himself.

_So we worked together there for a bit. What was I expecting, a friendly game of 'Truth or Dare?' This isn't a sleepover._

He was not going to think about the fact that, even in the midst of the darkness in which they were confined, his armband had just reacted with a slight twinge to the forbidding prosecutor's obvious tension.


	3. Chapter 3

A few moments later, Apollo had found his own reading nook once more, where the file folder on which he had been working was still lying on the ground after having slid off his lap earlier. He closed it and leaned it against the dividing wall before attempting to get comfortable in the suddenly much less cozy-seeming armchair.

_They're nice for checking stuff for a while, I guess, but I'd really rather be in my bed…_

Wriggling a bit in an attempt to find a relaxed position, he stretched his legs out in front of him and closed his eyes, determined to try and get some more shut-eye.

His bid for sleep was unfortunately doomed to failure, as, a few minutes later, the sound of footsteps began echoing through the otherwise quiet archive.

At first, Apollo was convinced that Blackquill was only stepping over to the bathroom, but the steps never stopped or slowed, and it did not take him long to realize that the man was _pacing_, not unlike a caged animal.

"Hey, could you stop that? I'm trying to sleep here!"

The prosecutor's answer came in a low growl. "Feel free to stuff some toilet paper into your ears if it bothers you so much."

"Whatever happened to 'the more we sleep, the quicker this'll be over?'" Apollo's retort rang with sarcasm.

Now, Blackquill stopped walking for a moment. "Perhaps my suggestion was primarily intended for _you_ in order to allow me to forget your presence, have you ever considered that possibility?"

He sounded slightly annoyed – and definitely tense in a way that did not bode well.

_No wonder nobody wants anything to do with him, as _charming _as he can be._

The pacing had begun yet again.

_Fine. Two can play that game._

Even though he knew that it was childish and might even net him an angry outburst, Apollo rose from the armchair and fell in line right behind Blackquill, trying to keep up with his wide steps as he also began to wander back and forth along the row of tables in the middle of the room. Either the prosecutor would eventually stop due to getting tired of being imitated, or Apollo would manage to wear himself out enough to where he could fall asleep even with the continued sound of footsteps reverberating through the cavernous room.

After a few rounds, Blackquill spoke up again, his tension curiously less pronounced, and now tempered with a hint of amusement.

"I was not aware that we were playing 'Simon Says,' nor do I recall inviting you to join me."

Apollo shot back, "I didn't know I needed a personal invitation to walk back and forth in a public building."

"Hmph. Suit yourself."

Inexplicably, the prosecutor sounded ever so slightly relieved.

_Huh. What is _up _with him?_

The answer did not come to him until he noticed something odd about the nature of Blackquill's pacing: Instead of making use of the whole width of the room, he always took only five wide steps, to then turn around as if being faced with an invisible obstacle, retracing those five steps in the opposite direction.

_Five steps… about the width of your average jail cell. Is he having a flashback?_

Blackquill had been flippant about being locked in earlier, citing his experience of sitting in the clink, but perhaps, he had been masking the fact that being confined yet again, even if it was only for a few days, did not exactly do wonders for his nerves.

_He's been locked up for seven years, knowing that he was innocent… _Apollo could not even imagine what _that _must have been like.

Before he realized it, he had spoken up. "By the way… I don't think I've ever thanked you for everything you've done for Athena, especially since I…"

Since he had barged into the courtroom and doubted his colleague when it could have resulted in her conviction for murder and negated the prosecutor's sacrifice, due to his conversations with a suspicious Aura and his grief for Clay.

He almost ran into Blackquill's back when the other man suddenly came to a halt.

"I did what I had to do. Honor demanded no less of me."

The concept was still completely foreign to Apollo. Oh, he understood wanting to help out, stepping into the breach for someone else, but to languish in _jail _as a convicted murderer for years in order to save another person from so much as coming under suspicion? Holding on to a false confession even when things came down to the wire and the execution was scheduled for the very next day?

"I can't say I get it," he admitted quietly. "But… maybe that's because you're a lot stronger than me."

Silence fell between them for a long moment. When Blackquill did not speak up again, Apollo awkwardly cleared his throat. "So… what was Athena like back then? I've only ever heard your sister talk about her as a kid, and she wasn't her biggest fan, so…"

The prosecutor turned towards the reading tables and pulled out one of the chairs, seating himself. Apparently, he had acquiesced to continuing their conversation.

"I barely recognized her when I first saw her in court last year. She used to be… quieter, less exuberant, likely because she only rarely got to leave her residence. As you perhaps recall, her ability kept her confined to environs with comparatively few people – back then, it was strong enough as to be debilitating, even with the headphones she always wore. She would spend most days when I was in attendance drawing in a corner, although sometimes she would venture into the grounds with her childhood friend, Juniper Woods. She was a surprisingly well-behaved child – while most people's offspring were rather irritating to me back then, Athena was never a bother, and quite eloquent if given the chance to converse. Her mother was surprised when I mentioned it to her once; unfortunately, _she _somehow managed to be even less versed in dealing with children than I was. Perhaps Athena's environment contributed to her nature back then – with the exception of Woods-dono and I, all of her potential conversation partners were scientists and engineers even more removed from her own age than myself, exhibiting various degrees of eccentricity and little patience for any topics that might be of interest to a child."

Blackquill paused for a moment, his voice sounding wry when he spoke up once more. "Before you ask, I was aware of my sister's dislike for her, and I have had my _suspicions _as to her reasons, but of course I never received a confirmation until this last December."

"You and Aura don't seem particularly close…" Apollo ventured to say, only to earn himself a bark of laughter.

"Do you have any siblings, Justice-dono?"

"Um… I'm not really sure."

The prosecutor sensed that he had just stepped into awkward territory; this time, he was the one to clear his throat before elaborating, "I am not sure that our relationship can be described as 'average,' given that we are nine years apart in age and Aura left for college when I was still fairly young, but I am led to believe that our interactions are not all that out of the ordinary – or at least they _weren't_ prior to my incarceration. My confession _did _cause a rift between us… however, in spite of that fact, she never ceased her visitations, and although we tend to argue more often than not, I continue to see her on a weekly basis."

Apollo could _hear_ Blackquill's smirk. "I can't deny, however, that I look forward to the day when we find ourselves able to trade barbs without a pane of glass between us once more. It will have been a decade at that juncture, if we disregard the minuscule span of time during the trial in December."

Another thing he could hardly imagine. To only be able to converse with people from the outside in the dim confines of the detention center, during set visitation hours, for so long…

"Perhaps my own experiences as the _annoying _younger brother enabled me to establish a rapport with Athena back then," the prosecutor mused quietly, startling Apollo out of his thoughts. "While my hand was primarily guided by my awareness that there must have been _some _sort of mistake upon finding her mother bereft of life, my actions may have arisen from the same place as Aura's… but that is neither here nor there. What's done is done."

After a moment he looked up at Apollo, the small, lopsided grin on his features visible even in the dearth of light.

"Incidentally… you might have made a reasonably competent psychologist, had you not gone into law, Justice-dono."

Without another word, Blackquill rose from the chair, his footsteps moving away towards the reading alcoves, likely to take another stab at sleeping.

Apollo was not so thick that he did not understand the implications of his final sentence, even if the prosecutor would probably rather swallow his tongue than ever utter the words more directly: _Thank you for distracting me._

He shook his head as he found his way back to his own armchair. _You're welcome._

Maybe being stuck here with the guy was not as bad as all that, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Apollo awoke to a weak ray of light dancing across his lowered eyelids. For a moment, he wondered why his neck felt so stiff – had he fallen asleep in front of the TV last night?

_Eh, whatever. Time for breakfast and some Chords of Steel._

Only when he opened his eyes was he reminded of his current circumstances.

_Or maybe no breakfast – and if I start my workout, _someone_ is probably going to strangle me._

Not since the day he had seen his original mentor being led away in handcuffs had he felt this depressed about being in the courthouse.

_Oh, stop being so damn melodramatic, Apollo. Remember: The guy who's stuck with you in this has had experiences in this building which were one heck of a lot worse than yours._

With that thought firmly in mind, he made for the bathroom, relieving himself in utter darkness. Thereafter, he propped open the door to get a good look at himself in the mirror, after washing his face with a few dabs of hand soap and having a sip of water from the faucet. A hint of beard stubble was beginning to come in, making his cheeks and chin itch like the dickens – but of course, he had not exactly thought to arrive here with a razor in his pocket.

_Great. I'll look like I covered my face with glue, nuzzled a cat, and promptly got my face clawed up by the time they let us out of here._

Since he also had no access to a toothbrush, he made do with rinsing out his mouth once he had let his teeth scrape across his tongue a few times – and then, he was as ready to start into the first of two whole days of being trapped in the courthouse archive as he would ever be.

At the doorframe, he ran into Blackquill.

The prosecutor was beginning to look somewhat scruffy, himself – only, life was unfair and, in his case, it actually did _not _make him look as though he was breaking out into a case of particularly hairy acne.

"Are you done in there?"

He stepped aside. "Yeah, go for it."

_No 'good morning,' huh? Then again, I guess it isn't really._

The door closed behind Blackquill, leaving Apollo to wonder whether now might not be safe enough to engage at least in some normalcy and begin his Chords of Steel workout – his companion was awake, and the bathroom door was thick enough to not let a lot of noise through. Considering the situation, he could really use a pick-me-up just about now.

_Screw it._

Apollo drew as much air into his lungs as he could, and shouted at full volume, "MY NAME IS APOLLO JUSTICE AND I'M FINE! EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE!"

The bathroom door promptly opened again, and Blackquill stared at him as if he had completely lost his mind.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"I'M…"

The prosecutor grimaced at his still unreasonably high volume, and Apollo began once more. "I'm doing this every morning. It's to get myself going for the day. I guess coffee would do, too, but since we don't have any…"

Blackquill lifted a hand to the bridge of his nose, pinching it between thumb and forefinger. "And how long does such a… session… usually last?"

"Maybe five, ten minutes?" Apollo shrugged.

An exasperated sigh followed his answer. "If you cannot help yourself, have at it."

The bathroom door closed again.

_Huh? He's not telling me to shut it this time?_

Well, best to get this over with quickly, before Blackquill changed his mind. Apollo breathed in deeply and prepared himself to go through his set phrases of self-encouragement.

* * *

Figuring that it would be best not to overly tax the prosecutor's patience, particularly since it was completely dark in the bathroom with the door shut, Apollo capped his session today at only three minutes before disinterestedly wandering around the middle table of the large room. Apparently, some students had forgotten items here last night in their hurry to get out – there were an mp3 player without earphones, an umbrella, a few – unfortunately empty – candy wrappers, and a set of playing cards.

He had just shuffled the deck and begun a session of solitaire when Blackquill emerged from the adjacent room once more.

"That is certainly _one_ way to keep yourself occupied, if not particularly stimulating."

Apollo looked over his shoulder at the other man, who had come to a halt right behind his chair to eye his cards. "I take it you have a better idea?"

The prosecutor shrugged slightly. "I would not be averse to a game of poker."

When Apollo cringed at the suggestion, he raised an eyebrow. "Not your game?"

"… It's a bit more complicated than that, but… I guess I'd play. We have nothing to bet, though."

His assertion earned him a smirk. "With as much as you improvise in court, you seem remarkably quick to sheathe your blade in surrender when it comes to matters outside of a trial."

Blackquill walked over to one of the shelves, opened a folder, and unconcernedly ripped out a few pages. When Apollo squawked indignantly at the casual display of vandalism, the prosecutor held the paper up for him to see; the pages were blank, except for one word at the top: _Notes_.

"A remnant of ages long since past – who uses these anymore in the century of laptops and tablets? We might as well recycle them."

Returning to the table, he took a seat next to the defense attorney, and proceeded to rip his bounty into smaller pieces, until he had two tidy stacks of paper strips sitting in front of him.

"Which style of play would you prefer?" He asked as he shoved one of the piles over towards Apollo.

"I, uh, only know five-card draw, I believe it's called."

"Then let's begin with that. Shuffle and deal."

* * *

Less than an hour later, Blackquill had become the proud owner of every single betting scrap they had, and Apollo was incredulous. He knew Mr. Wright had cheated at poker back in the Borscht Bowl Club days by having Trucy, who somehow could sense tension in people just like he could, indicate to her adoptive father when someone was bluffing. Obviously, Blackquill had done so more than once – and he had not spotted the tiniest of tells, sensed no lie or omission. He would have thought something had happened to his ability, except he had been able to spot the man's tension last night in spite of the near-total darkness in the room.

It could not hurt to ask.

"Okay, how did you _do _that?"

Blackquill grinned as he divided the scraps up evenly once more. "What, clean you out? I've had an _abundance _of practice."

Apollo shook his head. "No… you have no tells. _None._ And seeing that I'm kind of a specialist on those…"

"Ah yes, your little 'trick,' which I won't allow in court. Gavin-dono has since informed me of its exact nature. As you can see, it isn't one hundred percent reliable. Are you familiar with biofeedback meditation techniques?"

"Huh?" The defense attorney put his index finger to his forehead as he thought. "It rings some sort of bell, but isn't that all esoteric mumbo-jumbo?"

The words had, once again, come out before he had evaluated them as potentially hazardous, but they only netted him a smirk in response. "Seeing that you have just witnessed one of its potential effects, judge for yourself."

Apollo stared. "You can control your tells this perfectly?"

Blackquill had finished sorting out the piles, and pushed one of them over towards him. "Not always – it depends on my state of mind and concomitant ability to concentrate. While it takes years of practice, be aware that you might face an opponent someday who has similar expertise."

"How'd you get into that sort of thing?" Apollo wondered as he handed him the deck of cards.

The prosecutor began to shuffle. "I'm not sure if you are aware of it, but the reading material in the detention center cells and the waiting room is utter rubbish. Religious tracts, a book on dog grooming, of all things, and a guide on how to be a model prisoner, which is rather defeatist, in my opinion. However, I also found a work on this technique there, and while I thought it to be inane at first, myself, I decided to give it a try, for purposes of… stress management."

The smirk that showed up on his face for a split second at that remark was more than a little bitter. "You can probably imagine that I was in dire need of it during my first few years, although I never perfected the technique enough to combat all of my stress-related difficulties."

_No, I guess anyone can see that – it's plainly written on your face. _The dark tracks of Blackquill's insomnia had begun to fade, but it would probably take months yet for them to fully abate – and if they were truly the result of seven years of little sleep and god knew what other sorts of _stressors_, that was hardly surprising.

Apollo carefully ventured to respond, "I… see. I wouldn't presume to say that I fully _understand_, but I see what you're getting at."

The prosecutor nodded as he placed the deck on the table for a moment.

"Unfortunately for you, suppressing my tells while playing is a reflex by now, and it would take Athena's hearing to catch me at this point, always given that I would be daft enough to verbally lie about my cards – as I indicated earlier, I have played an uncountable number of rounds in the clink. Perhaps another variant of poker would level the field? Texas hold' em is somewhat easier to predict…"


	5. Chapter 5

During the course of the morning and early afternoon, they proceeded to play a number of different varieties of poker and, when that particular game began to grate on Apollo, moved on to other ones: Bridge, a few Chinese games which could be adapted to a standard poker deck and whose names the defense attorney quickly forgot, and a game inappropriately known as 'Shithead,' which made him start the moment the word emerged from Blackquill's mouth.

Eventually, Apollo's stomach made itself heard rather insistently with a loud grumble; when he checked his old-fashioned pocket watch, which he always kept in one of his vest pockets, it was around 4:30 PM.

_No wonder I'm starving, I haven't eaten anything in over 24 hours…_

He had ventured into the archive shortly after lunch, and had not so much as taken a break for a snack in his search for the elusive case file which had landed him in this situation, just wanting to get this over with and go home.

"Um… I hate to bring this up, but… I think you said something about having 'provisions' on you last night, and I know you wanted to wait until later before we get into those… thing is, though, I haven't had anything since two yesterday…"

Blackquill tutted. "Imprudent, Justice-dono."

"Hey, I wasn't aware that I was gonna be stuck in here for the weekend, all right? I _was_ gonna eat something on the way home, and then, _this _happened…"

The prosecutor conceded the point with a minute nod. "Yes, one could say that this particular happenstance falls under the category 'unforeseeable.' I will personally see to it that the responsible bailiffs will be severely reprimanded at the least for failing to check for students or attorneys who were guided into Morpheus' arms by the sheer dryness of their research before barricading all exits."

He reached into his surcoat and pulled out a small, square package, which looked ever so slightly smushed on one side.

"Here. This is all we have, I'm afraid to say. You are welcome to all of it – I am not in the habit of eating a lot at the best of times, and had a substantial dinner just prior to my arrival yesterday evening."

Apollo stared at the proffered item. "_These _are your rations?"

It was a double pack of Swiss cake rolls from the vending machine.

Blackquill raised an eyebrow. "Is there a point to this inane question?"

"Uh, no… thank you very much." Apollo took the package from the prosecutor. "I was just surprised – you didn't strike me as the chocolate type."

He received a smirk in response. "I am generally not given to sweet trifles, but for some indefinable reason, the mood tends to strike me whenever I venture down here. It seems that whoever placed the vending machines near the entrance knew that the prospect of being swallowed by ennui enhances sales figures."

The defense attorney quickly opened the package and removed one of the rolls. The first bite was _heaven _– he did not think that he had ever reveled like this in eating a simple snack cake.

After chewing and swallowing, he said, "There's two in the pack. Do you want the other one? They're yours, after all."

Blackquill waved him off. "By all means, keep it. I will hardly waste away. All I ask for in return is an hour of quietude, as I would like to try and meditate for a while. I contemplated using the bathroom for this purpose, but was wary of the possibility of being interrupted in case you experienced nature's call"

_Oh. Is he still gnawing on being locked up in here? _In that case, his quip about the restroom was probably also prevarication – if the man was already feeling confined in the spacious archive, sitting in the much smaller tiled room in utter darkness was unlikely to help him relax.

"Uh, sure. Go right ahead – I'll find something to keep me occupied over there." Apollo pointed to the far side of the room.

"That would be appreciated."

The prosecutor rose from his chair. Then, he moved to kneel on the ground, hands splayed on his thighs just above the knees, and closed his eyes. The position did not look particularly comfortable to his companion, and yet, he seemed to hold it effortlessly.

The defense attorney shrugged inwardly. _Let him be. _'Inane questions' could wait until later.

After closing up the Swiss roll wrapper as tightly as was possible with the help of some more filched paperclips, in order to keep the remaining confection fresh, he wandered over to the reading alcove furthest from where Blackquill was doing whatever he was doing, at a bit of a loss when it came to what to do.

_I guess I could start another solitaire session._

No – he had had enough of cards for the day, and perhaps his entire _life_, even though he would rather agree to more games tomorrow than stare at the wall, considering that there was not even any wet paint to watch as it dried.

_Maybe I'll just try and find that case again. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? It's not like I'm not already stuck in here, so who cares if I fall asleep?_

Apollo pulled the small handwritten list of file numbers out of his pocket, and checked which ones he had not yet marked as done. Silently, he collected four folders, and settled down to read.

* * *

Apollo woke from his doze when measured footsteps came to a halt right in front of him, and found Blackquill looking down at him with a grin.

"Your boredom level must be positively suicidal, if you resort to the archive materials for light reading."

The defense attorney was sitting half-sprawled in the alcove armchair, with a folder still lying open on his lap, just as he had found himself last night. The light outside was beginning to fade, the basement room about to descend into darkness once more.

"I thought I'd use the time to try and find what I was originally looking for, so I don't have to come back here for it after this _delightful _little stint." Apollo knew he was sounding slightly belligerent, as he _still _had not located he case his superior had gone on about.

"Ah. That renders your apparent fascination with the files slightly more comprehensible." Blackquill grimaced slightly. "At least the clink proper had a reasonably stocked library, even if the detention center did not benefit from it."

By now, Apollo was getting the impression that the other man's repeated comments in regard to this place being _boring _were hiding something more than just temporary ennui in the face of their situation.

"Sorry if I'm nosy, but… is this pretty much how you spent your days in there? Reading, meditation, and card games?"

Seven years of _that _sounded _dreadfully _boring – well, a little more than six, seeing that he had been allowed to do his job again for most of last year – and yet, the ex-inmate had made it through _those _somehow and had still displayed equanimity in court, while being stuck in here for only two days caused him to be antsy. It made very little sense.

Blackquill shrugged slightly. "There were a few other activities I engaged in, but these three items _did _occupy a substantial amount of my time. If one is confined behind bars for sixteen to nineteen out of every twenty-four hours, one learns to make do, occupy one's mind lest it experiences slippage. Cells the world over are filled with those unfortunate enough to have failed in this endeavor."

There it was – a tell, the minutest twitch of the prosecutor's right lower eyelid when he mentioned 'occupying one's mind.' Considering that he had just meditated for an hour, and had no reason to be excessively tense at the moment, Apollo could only conclude that the topic was triggering bad memories.

He had two options at this point, it seemed: Ask for more information and attempt to somehow discern what was eating Blackquill about being trapped with little to do, or risk being treated to another pacing session in the middle of the night, meditation or no meditation.

"Let me get this straight: You've somehow managed to never be bored out of your skull while sitting in prison? Not once?"

He was surprised when the prosecutor sighed.

"Boredom, Justice-dono, was my greatest enemy, and to be avoided at all costs. You have heard me refer to my conversations with fellow prisoners in court, and to duties which I performed inside the walls. Tell me – what significance do these pieces of information have? You are hardly as much of a dullard as you pretend to be sometimes, figure it out."

Blackquill walked over to the row of tables in the middle of the room, selecting a chair and straddling it after pulling it out, his lower arms propped up on the back rest, gazing at Apollo as he waited for his answer.


	6. Chapter 6

Apollo thought for a moment. "That really isn't a lot to go on, y'know… in court, I can get testimony to go with this sort of evidence, but without you giving me a bit more information, I don't think I can make heads or tails of it…"

The prosecutor shook his head slightly. "You are not considering my specific situation as framework – quite neglectful of you. Why would someone in my profession, even if ostensibly fallen from grace, fraternize with criminals? Furthermore, inmates in my section of the clink were largely exempt from chores, so why would I _volunteer _to debase myself cleaning shower stalls? And finally, think back to the period during which I was permitted to once more see to my work. Why would I agree to put my name on a case involving the trial of an _animal_, when no other prosecutor would give it the time of day? I can assure you that enough has been written about me in the papers, so _publicity _was hardly something I craved at the time."

"Hm… I don't know…" Apollo lifted his index finger to his forehead as he thought. "I mean, of course you'd be talking to people here and there, can't go without any conversation for years, right? Also, maybe, if you said the right stuff, you could manipulate them into helping you out? And the chores… are there some perks for people on good behavior? I wouldn't know, there's only one other person I know personally who sits in jail for murder, and I'm not about to visit _him _and talk about his day anytime soon. As for that trial… the boss said something about you accusing him of being in it for the money. I don't suppose that was actually _your _motivation, was it?"

Blackquill barked out a laugh. "You have strayed so far afield that I find myself impressed with your imagination. To answer your questions, I gained _nothing _from the jabber I engaged in with other prisoners, good behavior mattered little if the inmate in question was not projected to ever leave the clink for good again, and the compensation I received for my prosecutorial duties was held in escrow and therefore unavailable to me until my exoneration. Once again, what do you _know _about me and my case – and what did I just _tell _you?"

_Well gee, I didn't know we were gonna play '20 Questions: Find out why Prosecutor Blackquill does things,' or I would have done my homework._

"Hm… your case… your situation… wait. The Phantom! Is that what you're aiming at? Did you talk to the others and take on chores for them to try and get information out of them? Did you jump on every case to see if you could maybe find clues? I mean… he was pretty much right next to you whenever you were allowed out of jail…"

The prosecutor cocked his head slightly. "Fascinating. You found a potential unifying theory which is, however, as far from the truth as you could get."

He sounded slightly self-deprecating as he continued. "Much as I am loath to admit it, the counterfeit Fool Bright did, in fact, make a thorough fool out of _me_. Until he attempted to frame Athena, I still suspected Starbuck to be the culprit, and even then, though I was sure that the HAT-2 sabotage and murder had been committed by my old foe, I was unable to see the connection – and since I harbored no particular suspicions against him, your idea holds no water, as no other case I prosecuted did have any connection to my hunt for the damnable blackguard."

Blackquill leaned forward. "Recall what I said about _boredom_ – is this not how our little chitchat just now started? Take _it _as the unifying factor behind my admittedly somewhat erratic conduct. If you find yourself unable to guess at my _reasons_ thereafter, I will say no more."

His lower eyelid twitched again at the word 'reasons,' visible even in the fading light as Apollo's senses focused on his conversation partner.

The defense attorney rose from the armchair and began to pace, knowing the prosecutor's eyes on him.

_Why doesn't he just say it? Why the insistence on having _me _figure it out?_

Boredom. Their bizarre talk just now had sprung from emerging boredom, like Blackquill waking him from his doze before striking it up, playing cards with him, being willing to talk to him last night while obviously not dwelling in the most pleasant headspace at the time. Framing their conversation in this strange guessing game allowed for drawing it out, and thereby for killing more time. If it were not for being able to keep his mind occupied in this manner, the prosecutor probably would have never even deigned to mention these things to him at all.

_So, _why _is boredom such a problem? What happens when _I _get bored?_

The mind tended to start to wander, in Apollo's case sometimes to rather unpleasant topics if he was not careful – Kristoph Gavin's unmasking as Shadi Enigmar's killer and Apollo's sudden unwitting affiliation with a murderer, the belatedly occurring attempt at killing Vera via the poisoned nail polish, memories of fun times with Clay, now tinged bittersweetly by the fact that he would never get to meet his friend or laugh with him again. Maybe he was not so different from Blackquill when it came to wanting to keep his mind in the present at all times – had he not thought of his fervent loathing for this place just before their involuntary incarceration in the archive had begun? Did he not hate being here because it induced boredom _and _reminded him of his past?

_Wait. _

There _was _one major difference between him and his companion in misery.

Blackquill had known himself to be a dead man during his years of incarceration. No, he had never once shown any overt concern about it during their trials against each other, and he had, of course, managed to escape his execution at the last possible moment in the retrial which had set him free, but he _had _confessed to a murder and received the customary sentence. As he had hinted at before, when he had been thrown in jail, there had been zero expectation for him to ever leave the thick walls in a way that did not involve a wooden box and a cessation of breath.

Boredom, in his case, had equated to contemplating death drawing nearer with each passing day – and not one brought about by long illness or old age, but one that was undeserved, not a release from pain, but a menacing shadow which would inevitably engulf him, cutting him down in the prime of his life.

Apollo looked up at Blackquill, whose knowing smirk spoke of a fair share of bitterness.

"I see you have solved the riddle I posited to you. Not that it was particularly challenging to begin with."

"Um… I guess not." _I just didn't think you'd ever admit in so many words that you were scared of _anything. "There's one thing I don't get quite yet, though. I mean, I know that this kind of thing probably stays with you for a long time, but… the danger's gone, isn't it? Everything ended in the best possible way." _Both you and the girl you tried to keep safe are alive and free, and the Phantom has been caught. _"So why…?"

Blackquill looked away. "It is not all that complicated. As you well know, given our current conundrum, boredom leads to sleep. Sleep leads to dreams. Dreams do not care for reality, instead bringing visions of what could have been, particularly given the precarious turns of the trial. They also point out past missteps which, if avoided, might have led to a more favorable turn than seven years in purgatory, and the fact that, in spite of having been set free, much remains in my life – and in those of others affiliated with me – which will never be restored to its original state."


	7. Chapter 7

Apollo was increasingly unable to see his companion's face, as night was beginning to fall outside, but the street lights had yet to flicker on in the progressing dusk.

Considering what Blackquill had just said, it made sense that he was trying to uphold their now more than a little awkward conversation, even if it meant admitting that 'It is what it is,' as he had phrased it last night, was an attitude he _wished_ he possessed, rather than actually operating under its premise.

"I… I think I understand where you're coming from there. I mean, granted, I haven't sat in jail, let alone with a death sentence, but…"

Perhaps it was time to offer up some of his own personal demons in exchange.

"… you know I was mentored by the attorney who was the other factor in the 'dark age of the law' starting eight years ago, right?"

"You were affiliated with the elder Gavin?" Blackquill sounded slightly taken aback.

"Yeah… I mean, not at the time when he framed Mr. Wright for his evidence forgery, obviously, I was still in high school at that point, but Kristoph Gavin was my mentor after I first passed the bar two years ago. And in my first trial, I had to finger him for murder and make myself unemployable, or so I thought at the time. No one has ever held it against me that I was trained for the job by the man who began the forging trend among defense attorneys, thought that the end justifies the means, because not that many people _know _– I started working for the Wright Anything Agency after that trial, so only one set of court minutiae ties me to him, but considering that it was Mr. Wright himself who was under fire for it first, I've been really lucky that it didn't backfire on me."

Directing his gaze down toward the dully glinting ring of metal around his wrist, Apollo continued.

"Still… I've had a hard time trusting people since then, especially when they set off my bracelet, even if it's the stupidest little white lie they're concealing. Maybe that's why I took a leave of absence after the courtroom bombing, because Athena was getting more and more _tense_… yeah, now I realize that it was because she was hiding her connection with you, had probably heard that you were running out of time, and was trying to find out the truth about the UR-1 case, and not because she killed Clay – or her mother – , but how was I supposed to know?"

"There was no way for you to know," Blackquill replied quietly. "The available evidence seemed to speak against her in both cases. _I _was not entirely sure that she played no part in Dr. Cykes' murder until your superior was able to prove it – I suspected some sort of accident to have occurred for the longest time, rather than a premeditated killing. Although the HAT-1 sabotage was attributable to the Phantom, meaning that he had obviously had access to areas of the Space Center closed off to regular visitors, and I was working on his psychological profile with my mentor at the time, there was no proof to connect the two incidents, or at least none that was officially disclosed. And seeing that Athena herself was too traumatized to recall what had occurred until Wright-dono was able to restore her memory…"

Apollo slowly shook his head. "And yet you still shielded her."

Blackquill emitted a huff. "She was but a sheltered child in those days, with no conception of life or death due to her limited experiences, as her attempt to _fix _her mother amply proves. Even _if _she had done the deed, she would have been in need of psychological help, _not _of being incarcerated, be it in juvenile detention or an adult facility. My mentor would not have stood for it, and so _I_ could not."

Silence descended for a long moment after that statement.

"I bet you're happy to see that she's become so much more of a people person since then," Apollo then mused quietly. "Then again, she kind of fits right in at the agency – she and I are both orphans, as is Trucy, Mr. Wright's adopted daughter…"

"Thus your comment yesterday that you were uncertain as to whether or not you had siblings." The prosecutor seemed unsurprised – he had apparently already guessed at this fact, but had been too tactful to bring it up.

"Pretty much. I mean, I guess I'm a bit different in that I never_ knew_ either my biological mother or my father to begin with, other than the girls. Maybe they're dead, maybe they're still alive, maybe I have brothers and sisters, maybe I don't. I never bothered looking. I grew up in the foster system, and the three families who took me in over the years were nice enough, I suppose, even though I don't really have much contact with them anymore. The third one was pretty well off, so they shipped me off to a good school with a dorm for boarding students. That's where I met Clay… Clay Terran."

"The victim in the HAT-2 murder case? That clarifies a few things. You were… close, I take it?" The pause in Blackquill's final question did not ring of insinuation; rather, it contained a hint of uncertainty in how to proceed, given that the subject of their conversation had only lost his life a few months ago.

Apollo felt a melancholy smile settle on his lips. "You could say that. He was the brother I never had, and he was always so _optimistic_… whenever I had a hard time because I was bullied, or because I was angry that everyone got to go home over the shorter holidays while I had special dispensation to stay at school because my 'family' was off traveling somewhere with their biological offspring, he would make me stand up and yell that I was _fine_, that everything would be _fine_, and it really helped. I've only seen him down in the dumps once, the night his mother died… and even then, once I reminded him of his own technique, he managed a smile. As you've heard this morning, I'm still doing that – it helps me to focus on the present, on what I have to do, without looking back and drowning in regret."

"… I thought I recognized your yelling from somewhere," Blackquill muttered. I did not know young Terran very well when I was still under Dr. Cykes' mentorship, but I did witness him training with Starbuck once or twice – he was at the Space Center in some sort of semi-official after-school internship, or so I understand. He seemed like a rather energetic young man, and given to loud, if usually positive, outbursts."

Apollo laughed quietly. "Yep, that was Clay, all right. I was really happy to see that he managed to make his dream of going into space a reality – he always said that it was better to reach for a goal and fail than to never try anything at all. When I told him I wanted to be a lawyer, even though the profession already had a terrible reputation when I started studying for the bar, he said I should definitely do it. I even changed my name to 'Justice,' kind of as a statement of what I was looking for. Not easy wins, or hairsplitting, or outright underhanded stuff to get my client off by any means necessary – _justice_. I guess that all sounds pretty idealistic and cheesy to you…"

The prosecutor did not answer for a while, and Apollo was wondering what was going through his head, but did not dare to interrupt the other man's thought process.

Finally, Blackquill responded. "I was idealistic once, too, Justice-dono. I have since unlearned how to be, for obvious reasons… but if there were no idealism left in the courtrooms, the darkness that has descended on them would be doomed to stay forevermore. Perhaps, I shall even reacquire some of my idealism as change begins to surface."

He paused. "Do you happen to have the time?"

The street lights outside had now long since come to life, and the dim orange glow from the windows allowed Apollo to check his watch. "It's about 10:30."

"Perhaps an attempt at resting would not be amiss, then." The prosecutor rose from his chair to walk towards the alcoves, only for his steps to come to a halt halfway there. The defense attorney could dimly see the man's pale face turning back towards him over his shoulder as he added, "I will endeavor not to disturb your slumber tonight."

"Oh, haha…" Apollo scratched his neck. "It's fine if you do – this place never gets really bright without the lights on, anyway, so I can sleep whenever…"

A few seconds passed without a word, then Blackquill turned away again with an almost inaudible "Understood."


	8. Chapter 8

Sunday found Apollo and Blackquill occupying themselves in much the same way as they had been the day before: After awakening, they took turns in the bathroom, with the former trotting out his Chords of Steel while the latter saw to his ablutions. Thereafter, they played cards until mid-afternoon, at which point the prosecutor once again requested some quiet time to meditate.

However, even though the actions remained the same, the _atmosphere _was different. It began with Blackquill actually appearing _rested _when he met Apollo at the bathroom door, even though he was seriously beginning to look like he had escaped from the set of an Akira Kurosawa movie, with his clothes slightly rumpled, his hair wild, and his beard shadow now plainly visible. While the defense attorney began yelling out his regular self-affirmations, he never opened the bathroom door, nor so much as batted an eyelash at him as he eventually re-emerged.

During the hour Blackquill was kneeling on the floor in silence, Apollo once again took to searching for the case file that had initially brought him here, hoping beyond hope that he would find it today – he _really _did not want to have to return here anytime soon once he was let out tomorrow morning.

The prosecutor approached him just as he was beginning to angrily mutter under his breath, staring down at the file folder currently on his lap as though it had personally offended him.

"What exactly is it that you are endeavoring to find?"

Apollo grimaced. "Intellectual property theft, tried in court eight years ago, sixth of June. YY-588."

Blackquill raised an eyebrow. "YY-588? The abbreviation rings a bell. I may have prosecuted that case at the time."

He glanced at the spines of the last four folders which had been on Apollo's checklist. "If that is the case, you will not meet with success in these files. Cases in which I was involved prior to my incarceration have been re-filed, as they were thought to be unsuitable to establish precedence any longer."

Walking over to the shelf situated between the west exit and the restroom door, he knelt and removed a folder situated on the board closest to the ground, shook his head as he replaced it, took another file in hand…

"Here it is."

Apollo was speechless. _I could've searched _forever _and never come up with it like that! Why did they re-file his cases?_

It was unbelievably petty that Blackquill's former status as the justice system's pariah had apparently served to negate everything he had done before his conviction in the eyes of the archive's overseers, without anyone even bothering to check whether the trials had been conducted properly or not.

He took the folder from the prosecutor's hands with a grateful nod, and resolved to drop a hint about this to his superior as soon as he arrived at the office tomorrow. With a little luck, word would reach Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth shortly thereafter, and the matter would be resolved within a few days.

_It's not just about them being unfair to him, although it's crazy to go so far as to physically separate his _cases _from the regular records. I mean… what if someone needs to get a hold of his old files, like me?_

Taking a cue from Blackquill's behavior, Apollo ripped a few sheets of note paper from the back of the folder, took out his pen, and began to jot out the relevant information. He managed to get done just in time to avoid excessive eye strain, as the sun began to set outside, leaving the archive progressively bereft of what little light streamed in through the small windows.

After returning the file to its spot, he sat down next to the prosecutor, who had been amusing himself with a game of solitaire.

"Not really stimulating, is it?" He quipped, reversing their roles from the day before.

"Not particularly, no," Blackquill returned with a smirk, collecting the cards laid out in front of him and shoving them back into their cardboard sleeve.

Apollo sat down next to him. "Thanks for your help with this. I probably would've had to spend another few ages in here to find the case if you hadn't told me they were moved."

"Think nothing of it."

Silence began to stretch between them.

Finally, more out of a need to say something than anything else, Apollo groused, "I really wish they hadn't gotten us stranded here without lights. I mean, as I said when all this started, I'm not scared of the dark or anything, but we pretty much have the choice between talking and trying to sleep – and I'm not tired yet, so I'm sorry if I get on your nerves or anything…"

"You have no reason to be concerned," Blackquill returned. "In the clink, likewise, the first few hours after lights out were, in fact, used for conversation through the bars – between the reasonably _sane _inmates, that is."

"… Were there a lot that _weren't_? Sane, that is?"

The prosecutor pondered Apollo's question for a moment before answering.

"The percentage of overtly presenting mental illness is quite high in prison populations, compared to the outside. While the environment itself does not _instill _mental health problems, it certainly fertilizes any such latent potential in a variety of ways – and such latencies are quite common among the incarcerated to begin with. Continuously _unsound_ inmates were reasonably rare – after all, the severely afflicted and criminally insane are generally confined in different institutions. However, depression, as well as bipolar and borderline personality disorders, were exceedingly common, and only received medication in the more extreme cases, as the psychotropic compounds used for treatment were also frequently traded for goods and services among inmates. Monitoring pill intake is not an effective deterrent – if not watched constantly for the better part of an hour, extended release medication can still be regurgitated."

Apollo cringed at the thought of being so hard up for _anything _that he would force himself to spit up medicine which was intended to ease the symptoms of a personal, and potentially debilitating, condition.

"I don't think I could ever get used to being in there for _any _amount of time…"

The prosecutor's answering huff spoke of an indefinable mixture of emotions. "Many never do. Perhaps this is what drives dormant afflictions of the mind to the fore. As I said, after the lights were shut off, there was conversation between inmates, but there were also screaming and the shedding of many a tear, particularly among those whom seasoned prisoners dubbed 'fresh meat'…"

Blackquill trailed off into silence for a bit after that; his voice had sounded odd there at the end, Apollo thought. _Is he speaking from personal experience…?_

_That _was definitely not something he felt at ease to ask, though.

After a moment, his companion continued speaking, his tone once again perfectly neutral.

"Suicide rates are also quite high, among new members of the population, as well as among those having served decades and about to be released."

"Huh? Why would _they_ want to kill themselves, if they're finally getting out?" Apollo wondered aloud.

"Ponder for a moment, if you will, the thought of the world passing you by, perhaps without any contact to the outside, limited television privileges restricting opportunities to keep up with events, complete unfamiliarity with new technologies. Add to that the impending need to sustain yourself while likely being regarded as unemployable due to your criminal record, and perhaps not having any marketable skills in this new world into which you are released. Would you not think it daunting?"

While Apollo attempted to contemplate the scenario with which Blackquill had just presented him, the other man quietly added, "Some say that the old ways of the justice system, in which a verdict of 25-to-life could be given for non-premeditated murder, demonstrated remorse, or cooperation with the police, were gentler and are to be preferred. These people do not know what they are talking about. In my eyes, death is more merciful than being released an old man or woman with nowhere to go and no means of sustaining oneself, and obviously, a number of prisoners past and present seem to share that view. Not that thinking about ending one's own life if condemned to wasting away inside the walls for decades – or meeting death at the hands of the state, for that matter – is not nigh-ubiquitous. Show me the long-term or death row inmate who claims he never has, and I will show you a likely liar."

The defense attorney's eyes opened wide. "You mean you did…?"

"I toyed with the thought, once upon a time. Whyever would I not? I was destined to cross the River Styx in short order, one way or the other, and choosing my own time and method of demise would have been more dignified than hanging in front of an audience." Blackquill sounded starkly matter-of-fact. "However, I abandoned my tentative plans soon thereafter, as many prisoners ultimately do. Even on the inside, life is not entirely bereft of hope, and the will to continue to exist."

"Hope…?"

Now, the prosecutor segued into a grim tone. "I was still in possession of the abominable spy's psychological profile, my mentor's last work. It would not have done to not at least attempt to see my duties in that regard to the end – and aspiring to complete my final assignment served to give me a goal to pursue. Furthermore, there was a chance, however small, that the UR-1 case would have been revisited, and Athena's apparent role discovered, had I extinguished my life shortly after being incarcerated, considering the uproar it caused at the time. As the years passed, this likelihood diminished, although her return from Europe precluded any renewed thoughts of hastening my passing even as the date drew near. And lastly…"

There was just enough light in the room for Apollo to discern the man's sudden grim grin. "… in my case, the powers-that-be would have likely _preferred _for me to remove myself from their minds permanently prior to my scheduled execution date, as it would have allowed them to make a show of burying the 'dark age of the law' with me even sooner, regardless of its remaining effects. I did not wish to give them the chance, nor the _satisfaction_."

That statement, filled with gallows humor which was nowhere near as uncomfortable as it _should _have been, startled a small laugh out of his companion.

"… But enough of my jabbering," Blackquill concluded with finality. "I am uncertain why I have been tempted into lecturing this evening. You have my apologies for inflicting yet more boredom on you."

"N-no, it's fine, I wasn't bored!" Apollo hastened to reply.

_In fact, I think I think I'm starting to _get _you a bit more now. _The sarcasm, the tendency to resort to insolent jokes, willful conduct and attacks when engaged in a trial during his incarceration – to Blackquill, prosecuting hadbeen _amusement_, and while he had certainly not half-assed his duties, his main impetus, aside from continuing to shield Athena, had been passing time, and probably in a more enjoyable manner than he would have been able to back in his cell. Sure, some of his behavior had gone way too far in Apollo's eyes, but would _he_ have behaved any differently in his shoes?

_Probably not. Not after all that._

His thoughts were interrupted by the noise of a stomach rumbling – and it was not his own.

Apollo _had _been wondering why Blackquill had insisted on his uncomfortable-looking meditation although he had seemed much more at ease today. Apparently, it had been to keep something other than his nerves under control. _Even if he ate right before getting here, it's been two whole days now._

He suddenly recalled that he had completely forgotten about the second Swiss cake roll, which he had deposited next to the armchair of his reading alcove, to be savored at some later point.

"Uh, hold on for a sec, I wanna go get something."

He could feel a confused gaze fixed upon his retreating back as he went to retrieve the confection, putting it on the table in front of Blackquill after his return.

"I kind of stashed this last night, and seeing that we're gonna be out of here soon, might as well eat it while we're still in the right _place_ for such a snack."

The prosecutor stared down at the small package, orderly held shut by paperclips, as though it was about to explode for a long moment.

Then, he began to chuckle.

"Far be it from me to offend your sense of _fairness _any more than strictly necessary, Justice-dono, though I must insist on sharing."

The fact that there was something edible lying on the table between them now, and that part of it was being offered to him, caused Apollo's own painfully empty stomach to make itself heard.

He laughed, as well. "Right, I guess I can compromise with you on that just this once."

After partaking in the solitary sweet bite of sustenance available to them until the following morning, they retreated to their alcoves once more to pass the final hours of their confinement in slumber.


	9. Chapter 9

When Apollo woke, it was dawning outside, but the archive was still completely devoid of people. Apparently, it was not opening time just yet. A gaze at his watch told him that it was 5:45 AM, still 75 minutes before early bird students would be able to gain access to the large basement room once again.

He traipsed into the bathroom to relieve himself and wash his face, combing through his hair with his fingers after propping the door open to bring it into a semblance of order. His usually gelled-up hair spikes were by now limply hanging into his face, and no amount of brushing them back would get them to stay on top of his head, so he had to admit defeat and tug them behind his ears for now.

Curiously, Blackquill was not in evidence by the time he had finished with his ablutions; during the preceding two mornings, the tall prosecutor had been standing in the door frame at about this point.

_Huh…wonder what's up with that._

The answer was easy enough to discover – upon making a round, Apollo could hear a strange rasping noise before two long, black-clad legs came into view, sticking out of one of the reading alcoves near the opposite exit.

Blackquill appeared to still be asleep. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, and a tan file holder had been draped over his face, explaining the noise: Apparently, the man was prone to snoring slightly, and the cardboard magnified the sound.

Apollo cleared his throat.

No reaction.

Another attempt, louder this time.

Blackquill emitted a grunt and turned to his side, his arms unfolding for one of them to settle underneath his head for comfort. Now, the file holder slid off his head, exposing his face, and it was almost shocking to behold that the prosecutor looked completely relaxed and _peaceful_. Before the defense attorney knew it, a small smile at the unfamiliar sight found its way onto his lips. In a sense, Blackquill's current state, alongside his frankness in their conversations, was an implicit confirmation of emerging _trust_, and he could not entirely suppress a hint of satisfaction at the fact that the man would completely let down his guard like this while in his presence.

_Let him sleep for now. We still have some time before we get out, after all._

He would try once more to awaken his companion about twenty minutes before the doors opened, so he would have a chance to freshen up with what little they had, always speaking Blackquill did not wake up by himself prior to that point.

Apollo walked to the table and once again reached for the cards. Solitaire was actually beginning to feel _comforting._

* * *

Fifty minutes later, the defense attorney once more stood in front of a particular reading alcove, wondering how to go about waking the still-sleeping prosecutor.

Clearing his throat had once again failed. So had coughing. So had parading around in front of Blackquill with increasingly louder steps.

There were only two options left: The Chords of Steel, or attempting to shake him awake. At the moment, Apollo was attempting to decide which one was less likely to get him eviscerated.

_He's _definitely _not gonna be happy if I start yelling out of the blue, but who knows what sort of reflexes I'm gonna be subjected to if I touch him without warning…_

One unknown quantity versus a _known _irritant. The former _had _to win.

Apollo hesitantly reached out towards Blackquill's shoulder and pushed slightly. The next moment, a large hand closed around his wrist, albeit with nowhere near as much force as it had applied in keeping the defense attorney's mouth shut two days ago.

"Your lack of prudence is beginning to concern me, Justice-dono."

The prosecutor's eyes were open a sliver, and the familiar smirk had made an appearance on his face.

"I just thought you'd prefer to be awake when we're let out of here." Apollo shrugged, his expression nonchalant; he had never so much as flinched, considering that he had braced himself for a much more violent reaction. "It's bad enough that we're looking a bit like something the cat dragged in, and I figured I'd at least spare you the indignity of a bunch of law students posting pictures of the sleeping Twisted Samurai online from their cell phones in 25 minutes…"

"… Indeed. Much obliged."

Blackquill let go of his wrist and straightened in the armchair as soon as the defense attorney took a step back. At some point during the night, the prosecutor's hair tie had come undone and vanished somewhere, and his long black hair now fell wildly over his shoulders.

"If you will excuse me for a moment… I shall contemplate how to address the _mishap _we have fallen prey to with our witless captors while I attempt to make myself presentable – as much as is possible, that is."

Apollo found himself smirking back at his fellow captive. "I _do _hope you'll let me say my piece to them, as well."

The prosecutor nodded before turning away. "Be my guest."

* * *

When the bailiffs in charge unlocked the west door to let the first wave of law students into the archive, they were more than a little surprised to be confronted with two attorneys in rumpled clothes and with near-identical grim expressions on their faces, which sported a few days' worth of stubble. The smaller one was the first to speak up.

"Ah, _gentlemen_. Think you might've forgotten something on Friday? Like, maybe, just _maybe_, making sure that this place was _empty _before locking up?!"

The taller one (Someone in the back of the group whispered frantically, _"That's the Twisted Samurai, isn't it? Oh shi-"_) added with an unpleasant smirk, "Fret not, Justice-dono. I shall _personally_ see to it that the person or persons responsible will suffer the _consequences_ for their oversight. Additionally, we could always contemplate pressing charges. Wrongful imprisonment, reckless endangerment…"

Now the other man began to grin in a not-very-nice manner, as well. "Sounds like a plan to _me_… you guys _know _that we could've died from dehydration, right?"

"Indeed," the taller one agreed. "What utter _imbecile_ sees fit to barricade the sole means of access to the facilities for _any _reason? We were forced to let ourselves in by alternate means; should the door have been damaged in the process, those responsible for our imprisonment will be held accountable for it, as well."

The smaller attorney shook his head in only partly feigned exasperation.

"Unbelievable, isn't it? Oh, and of course, our superiors will hear about this. Phoenix Wright and Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth – do those names ring any bells?"

A large hawk chose this exact moment to swoop through the door and settle on the taller man's right shoulder, making him appear even more fearsome than he already had as he stated, "I will peruse last week's schedule to find the names of the bailiffs in charge by the end of today – and I would suggest a tactical retreat to these individuals before I decide to invite them to a private _conversation_. Until then…"

The black-clad attorney shared a look with the smaller man in the red vest and pants, and they both began walking towards the exit at the same time. The crowd parted for them.

"What d'you say to Denny's? I could eat a stack of pancakes my own height just about now…"

"I would ask that you spare me any unnecessarily grotesque displays – although… at this point, I would slice my way through an army for a few cups of coffee."

"Ohhh yes, _coffee_ sounds _great_…"

And before anyone else had a chance to say a word, the two men had turned a corridor corner and were out of sight.

THE END

* * *

Author's note: If you liked this story, but were hoping for something that was more pairing-centric (particularly since Simon/Apollo is quite rare)... I have written a sequel to this story called "Conference Conundrum," which cannot be posted here due to adult content (only one chapter keeps it from being suitable for this venue, for what it's worth, it's mostly a friends-to-lovers thing, but it's not one I can easily take out because there's also plot in it). You will be able to find it on my AO3 account within a few days of this chapter going up on both sites (for the link, see my profile). However, this story also works as a gen standalone if you want to leave off here! I hope you enjoyed, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!


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